


Fuck Mercy Kill

by Spades813



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, College, Crimes & Criminals, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Gay, Gay Sex, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, M/M, Mutual Pining, New York City, Organized Crime, Pining, Plot, Poor Alexander Hamilton, Slow Burn, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, Top Thomas Jefferson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 16:24:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spades813/pseuds/Spades813
Summary: Alexander Hamilton is just trying to juggle everything that the world throws at him. He's carrying the baggage of having a dying mother on his hands, a financial advisory business that he created, high school, and the ever looming thing called college casting a shadow over his head. When things become desperate he has to make a choice. Sacrifice his future or his mother's life?Jamilton fic.Essentially this is a crime fic, but it will also be about Alexander's life in college and how he deals with all the burdens that he has. This will be a story about how difficult it is to live in New York City as someone who is poor and the methods that people turn to to survive when they can't pay their way through life.





	Fuck Mercy Kill

A/N: Let's see how this goes…

XxxXxxxXxxx

Breath hitching in his chest like a sputtering engine, Alexander came to an abrupt halt. The young man grasped his knees, fighting to kick some proper oxygen back into his lungs before they decided to collapse in on themselves. He wasn't even a smoker, it was honestly ridiculous how out of shape he was. 

Shaking his head, he glanced down at his scratched up watch in the dim lighting. The little LED screen glowed back at him: 10:17. In almost fifteen minutes he had a late night study group to attend. But with the way this night was going he wouldn't be showing up to it. The young eighteen year old ducked down behind one of the drug stores’ fully stocked shelves at the stomping of heavy boots resounding from the other side of the store. He had to think quick and preferably slick if he was going to make it out of this. He didn't know how much longer he could keep up this awful game of cat and mouse in a severely underfunded, shitty Rite Aid. Every move he made alerted his opponent to his whereabouts. Escaping seemed impossible.

Swallowing the dread that felt like soon to be vomit in his throat, Alexander hugged his messenger bag closer to him. A few of the pill bottles that he had stuffed into the bag haphazardly rattled.

Immediately, he regretted the movement. Even over his own heavy boots, the police officer heard the pills click together. The footsteps suddenly raced towards him and without a second thought Alexander was up and running. He darted in between the isles, knowing the man was hot on his heels by how close he could see the officer's wavering torch light shine in front of him. 

“Running will only make this worse on yourself!” the man barked. He barely sounded much older than himself. Probably a deputy officer, Alexander figured. The young deputy's words were lies, Alexander could faintly hear the sounds of sirens approaching outside. If he had to guess he would say they were about five blocks away, but it might as well have been ten with the way NYC’s traffic was.

He had been so so careful with breaking into the drugstore. He waited until approximately two hours after closing time. Sneaking in was simple with a small pry bar and the right maneuver. Whenever he intruded into a pharmacy he never broke anything. He barely left a trace of his misdeeds. Alexander simply grabbed what he came for and left like he was never there in the first place. He must have slipped up somehow or maybe he was stealing too often. Or maybe the cop got lucky and saw him breaking in. What if he was followed? Whatever it was, he was now officially and spectacularly fucked for it.

He willed his short legs to run faster, but they keened in sharp protest. Alexander was practically skin and bone; they were bound to give out soon. But it didn't matter. Turning a sharp corner, Alexander ran straight into what felt like a wall that smelt of Old Spice products. The force of the collision sent him flying back onto his ass, the pill bottles flying out of his bag and rolling down the linoleum tiles. Blinking blearily, Alexander wasn't even able to gather his senses before a bright light was being shone right into his eyes. He felt a hand grab the collar of his hoodie- instantly he went into survival mode.

With all the might that his small body could muster, Alexander began to twist and turn against the strong hand that held him. The officer struggled and straddled his hips, pinning him to the cold ground. The teenager tried to buck his hips up, but it was to no avail. Suddenly the bright light was out of his eyes and was being directed at the ceiling. 

He blinked the starbursts out of his vision. Eventually his dark brown eyes focused on the dark silhouette of the officer sitting on top of him. Alexander couldn't make out the man’s features very well with the lighting except the fact that the man seemed to have really puffy hair. The other noticeable quality was the cop was holding his flashlight up in a strong grip, brandishing it like a weapon. The small glint of light on the base of it gave Alexander inclination that it was metal. 

One hit with that to the head and his skull would crack.

Alexander began to panic more, writhing under his attacker.

“Fuck-” the officer tightened his grip, almost cutting off Alexander's air flow. “Hold still, you little shit! If you're resisting arrest you'll  
give me no choice but to use force, you hear me?”

That didn't stop him, though. He was Alexander Hamilton. A kid from the slums that cheated death and all odds on a daily basis. He could practically taste the freedom that his future presented him. He worked too damn hard for his scholarships to Columbia University and the small financing business that he ran from one of his high school library's computers. It wouldn't all go to waste because some newbie police officer got lucky.

So he fought dirty. He wasn't proud of it. But it was effective.

Alexander opened his mouth wide and clamped his jaw down on his assailant’s hand, digging his teeth into the flesh enough to draw blood. The man cried out and wrenched his hand away, tumbling backwards off of him. Alexander scrambled to his knees, grabbing the pill bottles and quickly shoved them into his bag while the officer clutched his throbbing hand to his chest. Just as Alexander was getting to his feet- about to make the getaway of the century, the asshole grabbed him by the ankle with his good hand and dragged him back down to the ground with one fluid tug. 

His chin hit the tile and pain shot throughout his mouth as blood from his accidentally bitten tongue began to pool inside of it. Grunting he swiped his hand out and grabbed the forgotten flashlight and held it up for the man to see clearly what he had. Between clenched teeth he rasped, “Let me go or I'm breaking your wrist.”

The officer paused. For the first time in the last ten minutes everything came to a sudden stop. With heaving chests, they stared at each other with hard glares that rivaled one another. The officer still had his hand wrapped firmly around Alexander's ankle while he cradled the other one that was gushing blood onto his uniform. Meanwhile Alexander still held the hard metal flashlight up.

For a second, the officer seemed to almost consider letting go. Before his grip tightened unbearably so and his dark eyes turn to slits. “And let a little druggie gremlin like yourself walk? I don't think so, darlin’.”

Alexander gaped. He was insulted. Not only was he insulted mentally, but his ears were insulted. The man had a horrible southern accent that he just noticed. “Druggie? You're calling me a druggie?”

“You certainly appear to be one,” the officer retorted coolly. Alexander swore he saw a glint of a self assured smirk.

“Officer ‘timbuktu’ is really being judgemental of me right now?” Alexander sneered, taking the opportunity to sit up. Finally he got a good look of the officer, their faces inches apart. The man was definitely not much older than himself. He had a chiselled jaw, but a small bit of baby fat clung to it. On the sides of his face a small bit of stubble was beginning to lose its patchiness and become a full beard.

Outside he could hear the police cars’ sirens getting emmitedly closer. “Watch your mouth, kid. What else would you be? My department's been tracking you for weeks now. You really didn't think that the police would notice a trend of the exact same drugs being reported missing in the same neighborhood? Not only are you an addict, but you're dim as well,” the officer scoffed and took advantage of Alexander's building anger, flipping him onto his stomach.

The teen acted as if he were electrocuted. He flailed as the officer climbed on top of him, using his much larger size to hold him down as he forced Alexander's hands behind his back. He heard the distinct sound of clinking metal that could be nothing other than a pair of handcuffs. 

Blood dribbled down his chin as his face was smashed down into the tile in the struggle. He let the officer catch him off guard. How could he let that happen? He was so quick to defend his pride and now he was to pay for it dearly.

“They're for my mom,” Alexander ground out, twisting and turning as he felt one cuff close around his wrist and the other one being placed in position. One more click and he was a goner.

But the click didn't come. “What are you talking about?” The officer asked in a cold tone.

“Oxycontin and acetaminophen. My mother has had a fever of 102.3 off and on for the past two weeks, I don't know what else to do. I'm not a fucking byproduct of the opioid epidemic, you neurotic dick,” Alexander huffed through his squirming. He was so close to giving up. His limbs felt so heavy and he just wanted to sleep. At this point he probably burned off all of the calories he had eaten in the last week.

He felt the metal of the handcuff poised over his wrist. It still wasn't snapping shut and condemning the rest of his life yet like he was expecting. “Are you telling the truth?”

Alexander paused. “What?”

“Are you telling the truth?” The officer repeated, spitting out each syllable.

“Yes,” he sighed. He was just so tired of fighting. Why couldn't it be done already.

He heard the tires of the police cars screech to a rubber burning stop in front of the store. The lights from the sirens flashed on the walls, the sounds deafening his ears. This was it.

His future, the one he had worked so tirelessly to obtain, was over before it had begun.

Out of nowhere Alexander was being wrenched to his feet by his shoulders. Balancing on wobbly legs, Alexander glanced up stupidly. The officer stared back at him with such intensity he felt he didn't even need the handcuffs on him to feel imprisoned. The man looked at him carefully, seemingly taking in Alexander's appearance. His sunken cheeks, his pasty skin that lost its natural glow long ago, down to his scruffy hoodie. The officer’s eyes softened for the smallest of seconds before they hardened once more, “Get out of here. If you get caught again it's your own damn fault.”

Alexander could only stare at him stupidly. His eyes dropped down to the man's chest as he tried to comprehend what he was saying. On the man's breast was a shiny little plaque with black printed letters reading “Jefferson".

“Run, idiot,” Officer Jefferson gave him a shove towards the back door and that was all he needed. Alexander took off in a sprint and slammed through the back door. He wanted to look back. He wanted to look back at the face that had just granted him mercy. He didn't understand what had just happened? The asshole was treating him like the worst of the worst criminals and all of sudden his eyes and tone had softened. 

It was pity.

Pity for his mother and his situation. Alexander bit down on the inside of his cheek as he ran down the alleyway. He didn't need that entitled jerk’s pity. But a small part of him- a very small part- was completely grateful. He would make his study group after all.

Officer Jefferson watched the scrawny teen dart out the door. What did he just do? He had tracked that idiot for a week. This case was going to be his big break. Back at headquarters there was speculation that these robberies were the beginnings of a relation to a new drug cartel. Jefferson noticed the repetition in the robberies immediately. It was the simplest puzzle in the world to solve. The kid had established a pattern for god's sake. He deserved to be caught for his sloppiness.

All of these factors didn't add up to the fact he just let him go. He let him go. The thought kept bouncing around his head. What did he just do?

Next thing he knew, the doors to the pharmacy were being slammed open. Almost to the point that the doors threatened to fly off of their hinges. Three police officers, all his seniors, came barreling through them and running through the dark isles over to where he stood.

“Jefferson!” The fattest and gruffest one of the lot barked, “Where's the thug at? You called in backup, now where is the culprit?” 

Slowly, Jefferson turned around, his afflicted hand dripping blood onto the once pristine tile. Carefully, he shoved his hand into his pocket. If they saw the teeth marks they would want to DNA test it immediately. The fabric of his pocket and blood would surely rub away any remnants of saliva.

“He got away.”

XxxXxxXxx

A/N: Ok, so let me know if anyone would be interested in reading the rest of this. This fic was a spontaneous idea that I do have sort of a plan for, but I want to know if anyone's interested in reading the rest before I go through the excruciating process that is outlining.

Thank you!


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